They had officially become part of Derek Stillwater’s team, although “official” probably wasn’t the correct word. Since the Coast Guard was now part of the Department of Homeland Security, and Derek needed them, they were now working with — or for — the Homeland Security troubleshooter.
Sid Kerkowski, their third crew mate and gunner, said, “How’re we doing on fuel?”
“Fine for now,” said Black. She looked at Sid, whose youthful face was filled with anticipation.
“We’re rockin-and-rollin’,” he said.
Black rolled her eyes, but had to admit to a surge of adrenaline. She had been philosophical about their taxi services today. Although Stillwater had declined to give specifics, they had been following the news related to the U.S. Immuno attack and had a pretty good idea what the man was up to. When Stillwater finished justifying his commandeering their helicopter, she had said, “Whatever you need, sir, we can give you.”
“Well, thanks. I’m not sure—”
”Sir,” Black had said. “I’m not sure you understand. This helicopter…” She waved around her. “It was originally commissioned for drug interdiction, but its mandate has been broadened for anti-terrorism activity.”
“I see,” Stillwater said, but clearly he didn’t.
“No sir,” she said. “You need to know a little bit about this helicopter.”
Derek had sighed. “I’m not sure I have time for a sales pitch—”
”This is an MK-68 Mako,” she said. “It has a maximum speed of 168 knots and a cruising speed of 137 knots. Its range is 363 nautical miles.”
“That’s nice, but—”
”Shut up!”
Derek raised his eyebrows.
Tex spoke up. “Maybe Sid can explain.”
Stillwater turned to the third crewman. “What?”
Sid grinned. “We’re armed with an M240 machine gun, a Robar .50 caliber sniper rifle—”
”He’s a sharpshooter, too,” Black added.
“Yes sir,” Kerkowski said.
“And,” Black said, “we’re equipped with night vision goggles, FLIR — that’s forward-looking infrared, Light Eye and NightSun searchlight and a GPS moving map.”
“In other words,” Tex said, “we’re one well-armed, well-trained group of motherfuckers.”
Derek glanced around at the three Coast Guard officers. “Then I think we need to make a plan.” He paused, listening to the thunder of the helicopter rotor. “I think we need to set a trap.”
“A trap, sir?” Black asked.
“Yes.”
Tex brushed his mustache. “And what, exactly, are we going to use for bait?”
Derek smiled. “Me.”
Now, above the Explorer, Black’s radio crackled. “TS-One, receiving. This is Black.” The Coast Guard pilot had supplied Stillwater with a handheld radio to communicate with them.
“Any tail?”
“Sid?”
“Negative.”
“Negative,” she relayed to Derek.
“Okay. I’ll be back to you in ten.”
Derek phoned the number for Lieutenant Colonel Tallifer’s cellular phone. It was answered on the second ring with an abrupt, “Yes?”
“Colonel, this is Derek Stillwater, with Homeland Security.”
“Yes, Doctor. What can I do for you?”
“I need to meet ASAP to discuss Richard Coffee further.”
“I’m not sure there’s anything else to discuss, Doctor. You’ve read the file.”
“Yes, I have. And that’s exactly why we need to discuss it further.”
“Just a moment.”
There was silence on the line. Then Tallifer came back on. “I can meet you in about an hour. How about—”
”I’ll meet you at Rock Creek Park,” Derek said, and supplied a detailed description of the parking lot in the huge park where he wanted to rendezvous. “In one hour. I’ll be in the green Explorer.”
Before Tallifer could argue or negotiate, Derek clicked off. Then he radioed the helicopter to tell them the plan.
27
Captain Jaxon approached Liz Vargas with a tray of needles and tubes and pouches of saline and drugs. The faceplate of her spacesuit had fogged up before she could make it to one of the air hoses and she shouted to be heard. “These are the antivirals. We’re going to try a cocktail of Acyclovir, Ritonavir and Pleconavil.” Jaxon set the tray down and reached for an air hose, connecting it to her suit. It immediately puffed up and her faceplate began to clear.
Liz sat up from her bed in The Slammer and turned so her stockinged feet hung off the bed. “Take a break, Sharon,” she said.
“You just lay down and—”
Liz jumped to her feet, a fierce expression on her face. “I’m the only living expert on this virus. I’m not going to roll over and…. I’m fighting. Understand? I’m fighting. And there’s no reason for you to risk a needle stick when I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”
“You need rest,” Jaxon insisted.
“Stop it! Just stop it!” Liz pulled the I.V. pole close to the bed. “You’re acting like a doctor. This isn’t a doctor-patient relationship. It’s not! I’m a guinea pig.” She hooked the saline bag into the stand and sorted out the clear plastic lines. From the tray she laid out the needle and rubber tourniquet. “I’m a goddamned laboratory animal and you’d better figure that out fast because there’s not a lot of time.”
Perching on the edge of the bed, Liz strapped on the tourniquet, flicked at the bulging vein in the crook of her left elbow, then deftly inserted the needle. With considerably less dexterity she tore off a piece of surgical tape and taped down the needle.
Standing, she hung the bags of the antiviral medicines and manipulated the lines and needles until they were feeding into the I.V. lines. “Dosage?”
Jaxon said, “Set the drip rate… Here. I can do that.” With her clumsy gloved hands she adjusted the drip rate of the I.V.s.” She turned to Liz. “We can get you a phone so you can call your parents.”
“Later,” Liz said. “Here’s what I need. I need a computer with an Internet connection. I’m going to connect to U.S. Immuno’s database. I need full access to all our work on Chimera. I’m one of the few alive with security clearance.”
Jaxon crossed her hands over her chest. It was a comical posture in the blue spacesuit. Her voice was muffled. “We can do that.”
“And I need one more thing,” Liz said. “I need you to get hold of Dr. Lester Hingemann. He’s at Michigan State University, in the Life Sciences Department, Microbiology and Public Health. I want him either on the phone with me ASAP or even better, some sort of video conference call. And do it quick. Track him down.”
“Who is he?” Jaxon asked.
“He’s a bacteriologist and an expert on immune responses to bacteria. He’s the leading expert on Yersinia pestis.”
“Chimera is a virus,” Jaxon countered. “You know that. What good is—”
”Do it! I have an idea. It might be a long shot, but…” Her eyes welled up with tears and she brushed them aside with both hands, the lines to the I.V. jiggling and bouncing. “It’s time to make the longshots.”
Jaxon nodded. “I’ll get right on it.”
28
Derek parked the Explorer in the funnel of illumination cast by an overhead light in one of the many parking lots along the huge Rock Creek Park. The park was over 21, 000 acres and ran for over five miles. Situated in the heart of Washington, D.C., it was a huge, dark wilderness in which to ambush or be ambushed. It was also a popular body dumping site for the D.C. area. Only fools or bad guys ventured there after dark. Derek knew he wasn’t a bad guy…